


Born On Baker Street

by TheRubyStorm



Category: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: And summaries..., But not quite, Childbirth, Gen, I stink at tags..., Mpreg, Other, basically its a birth fic, but i might expand on it in a sequel if i get more ideas for one, but not in the way you're expecting, home birth, id call it omegaverse, plus sherlock and john arent a thing in this, semi graphic birth, so maybe just au
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-12-12
Updated: 2013-12-12
Packaged: 2018-01-04 10:05:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,722
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1079681
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheRubyStorm/pseuds/TheRubyStorm
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Nine months after 'committing suicide' Sherlock has to deal with the results of a sick experiment of Moriarty's.  Set after Reichenbach Fall.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Born On Baker Street

Damn Moriarty for getting him in this mess.

Damn the sick experiment that he couldn't stop Moriarty from performing on him.

'And damn him for making me pregnant with his child.' he thought to himself as the latest contraction released its grip.

 

The memories of that fateful night were non-existent for Sherlock Holmes; lord knows what Moriarty had drugged him with... But it wasn't until after The Fall that he had discovered the truth. Sherlock had been rather peeved when he found out about what had happened. But then again, he couldn't blame himself; there had been no way of stopping it. And even though it was Moriarty's child, it was his too and the thought of ending his own child's life was out of the question. So there he was, separated from his best friend, in hiding at his brother's and pregnant with a dead man's son.

Yes, he had managed to figure out the sex of the child without an ultrasound. Although John was still convinced that it was a girl.

 

Ah yes. Telling John...

 

John had certainly been a little less than pleased when he had shown back up at 221B Baker Street; surely he would have hit him had it not been for his condition. It had been bad enough that he had been away for the past 5 months, letting John think he was dead, not to mention coming back pregnant with the child of the man who had forced him into faking suicide in the first place. But after a long evening of talking, tears, and explaining, John was eventually on board with keeping the child that was growing inside of his best friend.

 

For the next three months, Sherlock had stayed basically confined to his flat under John's orders. Also every nicotine patch, every shot gun, basically anything of interest had being taken out of the flat as well. Doctor's orders... Although John did try his best to keep him put, basically by playing several rounds of Cluedo (and letting him win.) Not the most exciting life, but there really wasn't much choice. After word got around that he was still alive, the local media had gone crazy waiting at their door for the first big interview. In fact, as he currently looked out the window of their flat, he scowled at the small crowd of reporters still waiting late into the cold January evening. And if they found out this extra tidbit of information...

No, he wouldn't give them the pleasure.

Of course that was going to make tonight much more difficult, considering he had gone into labor a few hours ago.

John and Mrs Hudson had gone to bed earlier, neither knowing that he was in labor and far be it from Sherlock to tell them. He had gotten into this one on his own and he was determined to finish it on his own.

 

With one hand resting on his stomach and the other supporting his back, he managed to shuffle himself to the kitchen, grabbing a glass of water and drinking it down in three large gulps. Restless, he paced the width of the flat, doing the best he could to stay on his feet as long as possible. He had just reached his chair when he could feel the familiar sting of the next contraction. Leaning forward, one hand clenched the back of the chair while the other rubbed his rather impressive bump, his breathing deepening as the contraction reached its peak. After what seemed be forever, the iron grip that had wrapped around him started to loosen and as he straightened back up he could sense that the baby had dropped down lower, drawing ever closer to being born. He looked at the clock on the wall; only four minutes since the last one. Back to pacing, his hand moved in circles over his stomach as he walked.

"It won't be long now." he said to himself, savoring the break as long as he could. 

 

* * *

 

 

A few hours later found him sitting on his bedroom floor, his head resting on the mattress as he attempted to breathe through the pain. The contractions were now only about a minute apart and giving him hardly any time to rest before being hit with another one. He had no idea how close he was to the end, but he could sense the amount of pressure building as the head pressed down and the increasing urge to push.

Surely it was close.

 

Grabbing onto the bedding, he shifted his legs a little farther apart, trying his best to find some comfortable position to deliver in. As the next contraction started, he leaned forward, groaning as it shifted further down inside him. The urge to push was unbearable now and at that moment, he knew it was time. Taking a deep breath, he dropped his chin to his chest and pushed, letting out a grunt as he felt it slowly moving down. Didn't feel like much, but it was enough to keep him going and taking another breath he pushed again with what was left of the contraction.  As it started fading away, he took some deep breaths, realizing that this was possibly going to be more than what he realized.

 

Nearly two hours later, Sherlock let out the breath he'd holding, resting as much as he could before the next contraction started. Progress had felt like it had been going slowly and he was starting to tire out.

'Something's gone wrong. It shouldn't have taken this long...' kept running through his head; the decision to do this on his own now not seeming like the right one.

All at once, another contraction started, this one stronger than the rest so far. By now his reaction was automatic and he pushed down harder, determined that he'd finish this. As he pushed again, he let out a gasp as he felt something pop inside of him. Looking down, he could see the start of a puddle developing beneath him and cursed under his breath as he concluded that his water had broken. He hardly had a chance to contemplate this as the next contraction started and now without that cushion, the pain was nearly unbearable. Unable to fight it, he pushed down hard, a mild scream escaping his parched lips. It seemed to have finally moved slightly with that last push, and as the contraction started ebbing away, he was fairly certain that the moment was growing close. Reaching down, he could feel the solid form of his son's head extending only a few centimeters outside of him, his fingers brushing the hair already growing on its head before sliding back in as the contraction ended. Now that it was coming, the actuality of what was about to happen was setting and he was starting to panic, not wanting to do this alone.

 

 

In fact, there was only one person he wanted there with him.

 

 

As the contraction faded away, he reached for his cell phone and entered in a simple text message to John: _IF YOU WANT TO SEE YOUR GODSON COME INTO THE WORLD, YOU MIGHT WANT TO GET DOWN HERE. - SH_

Pressing SEND, he attempted to try to rest, leaning back against the bed as he waited for the next surge. His hand rested on his stomach as if to comfort the child inside. "Don't worry." he panted, more to himself than anything. "John...John will be here soon..."

 

 

The words were hardly out of his mouth as the next wave of pain started and despite trying to wait, the urge to push was too strong and he gave in, teeth grit as he could feel the baby trying to force itself from his body. In the background he could hear the sound of John's feet hurrying down the stairs and stopping in shock as he entered the room. He could only stand frozen to the spot as Sherlock turned to him; a look of pain and agony on his face. It physically hurt to see his friend in so much pain, so broken and so unsure as to how to help.

"I...I'll get Mrs. Hudson..." he stammered as he started to move towards the door.

"No!" he cried, stopping John in his tracks before giving another push. "Stay with me... I need your help."

He paled when he realized what he was suggesting. "But Sherlock, I can't deliver a baby."

"You're a doctor...of course you can...deliver a baby..."

"An army doctor." he corrected. "In Afghanistan. You don't deliver many babies during a war Sherlock!"

Sherlock tried to come back with a response, but as the next contraction hit full force he couldn't help but push; his body trembling with the effort as he struggled to bring this life into the world. Catching a breath, he looked up at him, tears threatening to stream down his cheeks.

"John, please... I can't..." the only words he could get out before giving in to another push.

 

That did it.

 

True, John wasn't exactly sure of himself in this situation, but he could see at that moment in Sherlock's eyes how terrified he actually was. He needed him now more than ever. In an instant, he was at Sherlock's side, offering his hand and helping to lean him forward as he pushed through the rest of the contraction.

"Well done Sherlock." he encouraged, ignoring the fact that he was squeezing the life out of his hand. Glancing down, he couldn't help himself but smile as a pound's worth of dark curls once again came into view.

"Keep pushing. You're almost there."

 

Sherlock's face remained scrunched with the effort a bit longer before leaning back to rest his head on John's shoulder, cursing under his breath as he felt it slide back in once more. Taking advantage of the break between contractions, John left his side for a minute to grab a few towels and things from the bathroom for the delivery. Hurrying back into the living area, he set the stack on the floor while spreading one out under Sherlock's feet. Then grabbing a cold cloth from the kitchen, he gently dabbed it on his face, already hot from the exertion.

Sherlock managed a weak smile at the cool sensation on his face and welcomed it gratefully. "Thank you..."

John smiled back. "Don't mention it...you idiot..." he added with a smirk before hearing Sherlock let out a sniffle.

“I...I can't do this anymore John...” he choked out, hot tears starting to stream down his cheeks. “He's never going to come...”

“Yes he is.” John insisted. “It won't be much longer. We might need to try something else though. Do you think you can get on your knees?”

Thinking for a moment, he nodded. “Help me up...”

 

With some slight difficulty, they managed to shift Sherlock onto his knees, letting his head rest on John's shoulder. They had just gotten him into position when Sherlock suddenly grasped John's shoulders with an iron grip.

“John!”

“I'm right here. Go ahead and push.”

But by that point, Sherlock was already gone, a low moan escaping his lips as he could feel it shifting down the farthest it had so far.

“That's great Sherlock!” John encouraged. “Don't let up. Give us another push.”

Taking a deep breath, he nodded and pushed again, biting down on John's sweater in an attempt to keep from screaming.

“Come on baby...” he grunted between grit teeth. “Get..out!!”

“That's it Sherlock!” John grinned at his comment. “He's almost crowning. Harder.”

But despite his best effort, he only managed to hang on a few more moments before letting out a loud breath as the contraction ended.

 

 

“Don't go back in...” he breathed, letting his head rest on John's shoulder.

“Don't worry Sherlock. He's staying put this time.” he smiled, catching a glimpse of dark curls trying to force their way out. “You're doing great; just try to catch your breath for the next one.”

“Just glad we're finally getting somewhere...” Sherlock smirked under his breath.

“Well, gravity has a way of doing that. Working better for you?”

“Much. Oh god...”

His eyes opened wide as Sherlock suddenly let out a groan.

"Another one?"

He nodded quickly as he grabbed onto John's shoulders and curled forward. "He's coming..."

John barely had time to get into position before Sherlock took in another breath and pushed hard, letting out a shriek a few moments later as he felt like his body had lit on fire.

"It's burning!" he screamed, not caring now if anyone on Baker Street heard.

"Take it easy Sherlock. The head's crowning. Don't push."

'Don't push?' he screamed mentally. Every fiber in his body was screaming to end it and here John was telling him not to? Never before had he wanted to rip John to shreds and judging from the smirk on John's face he could sense that too.

"But John..."

"I said, don't push." John repeated firmly as his hand gently put pressure on the baby's head. "I've got to ease the baby's head out so you don't tear. Blow."

Struggling to pant, he could sense his breathing quickening as with each breath, the head seemed to inch out more and more on its own until it finally forced its way free to a loud shout, leaving Sherlock panting stridently.

 

"Oh god that was terrible..." he moaned, thankful for sudden slight relief as the contraction ebbed away.

"I know." John replied, his hand resting on Sherlock's trembling thigh after satisfying himself that there was no cord around the neck. "But you're nearly done. He's almost here Sherlock...” He grinned, trying to contain the excitement in his voice.

He allowed himself a smile at the sound of John's enthusiasm. "So I was right?"

"Right about what?"

"The baby. You've been saying _'he'_. Was I right that it's a boy?"

"Sherlock, it's only a head right now. I can't tell yet." he smiled. He really could be so dense sometimes... “I'll say this much though, he's got a head-full of curls on him.”

“Does he?”

“Here. Give me your hand.”

Taking Sherlock's hand, he maneuvered his hand around the orb and grinned at Sherlock's expression when his hand finally came into contact.

“That's his head Sherlock.”

“Oh...” he breathed, his fingers gently ghosting across the tiny form that extended outside of him. He had thought about this moment for so long, how he'd feel when he'd first meet this being, this person who made been moving inside him for the past few months, who with every kick reminded him of the person who had done this to him in the first place... He had worried for so long that all he'd see was Moriarty when he'd look at the child, a forever reminder of his other parent. But now, as his fingers traced over a head full of curls and a tiny scrunched up face, Moriarty was the farthest thing from his mind. Rather it was, 'My baby... That's _my_ baby...'

 

"It feels...really weird." he smiled at John after a moment.

"I'll bet it does." he said, moving to brush the damp curls off Sherlock's forehead. "Just a bit more for the shoulders and then you'll have your son."

"Really?" John nodded, getting another towel ready to catch the newborn as he could see Sherlock tense up; curling in on himself as he pushed once more.

A loud hiss escaped his lips as he could feel it turning inside him. “He's moving...”

"He's working just as hard as you are. Come on Sherlock. Need another one for the shoulders." He could hear John saying, the baby's head still resting in his hands. "Give me another hard push."

Nodding, he took another breath and pushed again as hard as he could manage, feeling it move ever so slightly.

"Get it out!" he growled at him as he gave another hard shove, desperate for it to be over.

"It's coming Sherlock, but you've got to push." John instructed. "Now deep breath, hold and push down." he said as Sherlock did so, letting out a scream as with a final push, the shoulders shifted free and the rest of the baby's body quickly slid past his hands and into John's.

 

For a few long moments,the room was completely silent except for Sherlock; his head resting against John's shoulder as he tried to catch his breath. And then all of a sudden, the newborn let out a loud cry of protest; upset to be so forcibly removed from its first home. He chuckled in relief at the sound of that cry; at least it meant the baby was alive.

"Is he alright?"

But John gave no response, still utterly in shock over what had just happened and what he was looking at.

"My son," Sherlock repeated, a sinking feeling starting in the pit of his stomach that something was wrong. "Is he alright?"

All at once John found the words. "I don't know about your son, but your daughter seems to be perfectly healthy."

“Daughter?”

 

That caught his attention. Lifting his head up, he looked down in amazement to see the tiny screaming girl in John's arms, flailing her arms about as if she had no control over them. Before he had realized it, John had handed her off for him to hold while he started to clean her up with an extra towel.  He could see that she was pale just like him, not to mention the Holmes chin.  She had both his and Jim's dark hair, but he could already tell that she had inherited his unruly locks verses Jim's straight hair. And as she looked up at him, beneath long eyelashes were eyes that matched his unusual blue-green.

"She...she's perfect..." he said quietly, as if he were trying not to disturb her.

"Just like her father..." John smiled, wiping his eyes with his sleeve. "You did great."

Looking back down at the baby girl who cries were now calming, Sherlock gently ran his hand across her head, smoothing down her dark hair. "So you're the one who's been kicking me these past few months... Hi sweetheart... I'm your dad." he smiled as he held her closer to him, taking the opportunity to count fingers and toes and his grin growing wider as her tiny hand grabbed hold of his finger.

"I love you..." he breathed, knowing that he was already wrapped around her finger and that even though her other father wouldn't be around, he'd take care of this treasure with every fiber of his being.

 

* * *

 

 

"She needs something to keep her warm." he heard John say, realizing that the few towels he'd grabbed probably wasn't enough.

"You're right." he nodded. Looking around the room, he saw it. "My coat. John, hand me my coat."

"Sherlock, are you sure?"

"Yes I'm sure. Now cover her up in it."

Helping Sherlock to first sit down on the floor, he quickly grabbed the coat from the chair, gently draped it over the two of them and making sure that they would be plenty warm enough.

"This will be quite the tale to tell her when she gets older." Sherlock smirked. "That her godfather delivered her here in the flat."

"Godfather?" John looked at him in surprise. "You mean you were serious about that?"

"Of course I was.  Who else would I trust my child with but my best friend?"

John beamed. "Well..I...I don't... I'd be honored Sherlock."

 

 

"Sherlock? John? I heard something going on up here." Mrs Hudson's voice interrupted as she came from the stairwell, wrapping her dressing gown tighter around herself. "What on earth are you two..." Her sentence was cut off as she saw the two of them sitting on the living room floor, Sherlock wrapped in his coat and the tiny babe lying on his chest; her head the only thing visible under the coat collar.

"Oh my heavens..." Mrs. Hudson breathed, her voice soft as she came in the room for a closer look. "The little dear... Sherlock, why didn't you..." she started. "Of all the things..." she fumed, then let out a sigh. "I'll call for an ambulance." she said quickly as she hurried downstairs.

"Call Lestrade too." John called from behind her. "See if he can get rid of some of those reporters so we can get them out of here and to a hospital."

"And Mycroft." Sherlock added.

"Your brother?" John asked, confused. "Why?"

"Well it's not every day you can call your brother in the middle of the night to tell him he's just become an uncle."

The two exchanged a glance before dissolving in a fit of laughter at the idea.

"Well, so much for the name..." Sherlock chuckled.

"I didn't even know you had decided on one."

"I didn't. She did."

"SHE picked it?!  How?"

"One of the nights that we couldn't sleep, I went through a book of names, said out loud every name that caught my interest and whichever one got the most kicks would be the name."

"I see." John replied, shaking his head at Sherlock's reasoning and matter-of-fact explanation. "And which one was the winner?"

"Daniel...  But I guess we won't be using that one now."

John smiled. "Well, I'm sure you two will come to an agreement on something." He thought for a moment. "What about Abigail?"

"Abigail Holmes..." he said to himself, rolling the name around in his head a few times. “It's not completely unbearable.” he smirked before turning to the newborn in his arms.

“What do you say to 'Abigail' then?" he asked and smiled wider as she let out a noise of contentment before sucking on her tiny fist for all it was worth.

"Abigail it is then. It's perfect."

 

For a moment, the room was silent; the two of them looking down with pride at the tiny miracle in Sherlock's arms and both smiling at the sound of Abigail making noises in her sleep.

"So how did you know?" Sherlock asked after a few moments.

"Know what?"

"That it was a girl. Nobody knew and you seemed so sure; how did you figure it out?"

John grinned sheepishly. "In all honesty, I just guessed."

 

**_-THE END-_ **


End file.
